Skank's Game
by Darkpenn
Summary: Can you ever find a hero when you need one?


**Skank's Game**

_Can you ever find a hero when you need one?_

_[Author's Note: This story follows the story_ Interlude: What You Can Do, _and concludes the Avengers/Skank cycle.]_

* * *

The restaurant where the two men met every month was expensive, but the manager had learned long ago not to present them with a bill. And to ensure that no-one was seated close enough to them to overhear anything. That was the way it went in this town.

"This is getting to be a problem," said the man who was called, according to the restaurant's list of bookings, Mr Ivanovich. He passed the newspaper to the other man, pointing at the picture on the front page.

The other man looked at the photo. It was a young woman wearing a very short skirt, photographed from below as she leapt across an alley, from one roof to another. The caption read: "Is this the superhero doing the job the Newark police won't?"

"Nice angle," said Rorke, Assistant Commissioner, Newark Police.

"Well, we need to do something about her. Profits in the area she operates in have been sliding for eighteen months, and ever since Ugliovich went down the whole network has started looking shaky. He obviously grassed to this bitch and she's been picking off my people ever since."

"She calls herself Skank. She started off whacking muggers with a baseball bat and has been moving up since then. She thinks she's goddamn Robin Hood or something, snatching cash and throwing it around."

"Yeah? Well, it's got so bad that some of our dealers are afraid to sell there, and there's a shortage of kids to be runners. One of my people said that the kids had told him they were going to go to school instead! Fucking school! And the hookers have started wondering whether they need pimps at all. I've even had reports of a couple of businesses saying they won't pay protection any more. The first time that happened the local boss sent a guy around to get it sorted. He came back with his legs broken and her name written on his forehead in red lipstick."

"Sense of humour," said Rorke.

"Funny or not, she's dead meat. I've got people, you've got people. We let her know what game she's playing. We find her, we kill her, and we let everyone know about it. Show them who's the boss."

"Tried to find her," said Rorke. "She's like a fucking ghost. Wherever she lives, it's not on the official grid. She just pops up, beats the crap out of some people, and vanishes. The only good news is that she operates completely alone, from what we've heard."

"Hmm," said Ivanovich. "This is bad for business. Maybe she's on her own for now, but before long people are going to set up one of those damn Neighbourhood Watch groups. Then someone – someone who doesn't know how to make a deal – is going to run for the local council. It just goes down the toilet from there. So put some resources onto her, track her down. Or you won't get paid."

"She's smart, and she knows the ground," said Rorke. "Just adding more guys won't flush her out."

"Then," said Ivanovich, "we might have to try something else."

* * *

Skank climbed down the rope ladder – she had them, and cables and other equipment, stashed all over the city – to the back door of the Ninth Street Homeless and Community Shelter. She knocked on the door – a coded knock – and in a few moments it was opened by Maria Furillo, who ran the place.

"Hi," said Skank. "How's business?"

Furillo smiled – not a usual thing, given her line of work. "I'm pleased to say," she said, "that we have fewer customers than ever. So I suppose that's a sign of success. And that big donation we got last month was a godsend. I'm guessing you had something to do with that."

"Just a bit," said Skank. "So I guess you won't need this, then." She pulled a wad of banknotes from her pocket.

"To be honest, we don't," she said. "You know anyone else who might be able to use it?"

"Couple of thousand people," said Skank, putting the money back.

There was a noise from overhead. A police chopper, shining a spotlight around.

"Damn, there they are again," said Skank.

"You think they've finally decided to do their job?" said Furillo.

"Maybe, but somehow I doubt it."

"Yeah, me too. You know, a few days after that newspaper picture of you we had some cops in here, asking if I knew you. I gave them the usual run-around. Told them you were just an urban myth, and the picture was a Photoshop job. I know you prefer it that way."

"Urban myth, eh?" said Skank. "I can live with that."

She said goodbye and walked back to the street. The news that Furillo didn't need any money was, she thought, pretty heartening. Damn, maybe Natasha had been right and things were getting better. She would tell Jarvis about it later; they had an appointment to speak. That was one of the good things about dating an AI: always available to talk.

She was heading towards a crumbling brownstone in Carver Street. There was a family there – well, a woman called Cherry and her two little kids – that she wanted to check on. There had been an issue with an abusive ex-husband who didn't get the idea of divorce, and Skank and her friend Mr Billy Club had given him a lesson in how to treat and not treat a woman. Shank planned to do a quick drop-in, maybe slip the woman a few bills if it looked like that was needed.

She was walking along Seventh Avenue when she saw a police car coming slowly up the street towards her. They were moving slow, checking the faces of women.

Skank worked on the premise that any police she saw were part of Rorke's team. Rorke had a reputation for honesty. In the sense that he'd been bought years ago and he'd stayed bought. She knew that there were cops on the force that were clean – in fact, her mother had been one – but assuming that any she encountered were bent was a rule that had served her well so far. If these were Rorke's boys and they picked her up, she wasn't going to get just a night in slam. More like a bullet in the head, if she was lucky.

She turned and began to walk back the other way. And saw two cops on foot coming in her direction. They seemed to have an Identikit picture on a clipboard, and they were doing the face-check thing too.

She fought down an impulse to run. It would just draw attention.

"_Psst!_" said a voice.

She looked around. Across the road was a little knot of hookers, five or six of them. One gave her a sign: _over here_. Skank recognised her: a few months back, there had been a little altercation with a methed-up client who had done the business and then decided he didn't want to pay. So Skank had explained the concept of a contract to him.

Skank crossed the road and went over to them. The ones in the front stepped aside for her and she went into the middle of the group. It closed around her.

_Good thing I look the way I do_, she thought to herself.

The police car cruised past, not giving the bunch of working girls a second glance. The two cops on foot passed as well.

When they were gone Skank stepped out of the group.

"Thanks," she said.

"No, thank you," said one of the women.

"Hey, you ever want a freebie, let me know," said one of the others.

Skank nodded.

She continued on her way. The fact that the cops had a picture was a worry. And that chopper – no, now there were two of them – was still buzzing around.

She went into the brownstone and up to the apartment and knocked on the door. _Maybe I'll get an early night after this, _she thought. _Call Jarvis._

Cherry opened the door. She had a black eye and a bruise on her jaw. But Skank could see immediately that this was not the ex. This was something else. Professional.

"I'm sorry," whispered Cherry. "They said they'd hurt the kids – "

And then a big man pushed her out of the doorway. He smiled. He grabbed Skank by the throat, lifting her off her feet.

"Looks like I get the bonus," he said.

Then there was a _klong! _Cherry had hit the guy on the back of the head with a heavy frypan.

In surprise, he let go of Skank – and immediately realised that that had been the wrong thing to do. Skank, back on her feet, punched out, ramming her fists into the guy's gut. He gave a gasp but stayed upright.

She backed away, down the hallway, where she had room to move. "Come on, asshole," she said softly to him. "If you think you're man enough. Or is it too small?"

The guy gave a snarl and rushed at her. In a second, Skank had drawn her billy club from her boot and snapped it to its full length. She dodged the guy's rush and put her foot out, smashing him on the neck as he went over. He stayed down.

Cherry put her head out the door. "Two more in a car outside and three on the roof, I think," she said quickly.

"Get inside and lock the door," said Skank. "Don't open it for anyone, not even the cops. Especially the cops."

Cherry vanished and Skank heard the bolt slide into place.

She ran for the fire escape and climbed down into an alley.

She forced herself to think, trying to bring her mental map of the area to mind. There was a building with one of her spring-loaded lifters in the next block, and from there she could go across three roofs to a cable with a slide unit that followed a side-street for a hundred metres or so. That should get her out of the immediate danger zone, at least.

She was running down the alley when she heard a guy shout: "There she is!"

There was a shot, the bullet slamming into the wall a metre away. She was almost at the end of the alley.

A car, the sort that heavies drive, pulled up, blocking her way. She knew that the worst thing she could do was stop, so she leaped, vaulting onto the top of the car and somersaulting off the other side. It was a dangerous move, and as she landed she fell, going down on the concrete. A bolt of pain shot through her wrist, but she got to her feet as a guy with a shotgun got out of the car.

She still had the billy club in her hand. Before the guy could lift the gun, she whacked him across the face, so hard the club broke. She didn't wait to see if he went down, she was already running, throwing the broken club aside.

There were four guys running after her now, but she could see the lifter. It was a heavy rope with a counterweight and a spring, going up the side of the building. She jumped onto the little platform and punched the trigger mechanism. As she went up, she saw the guys that had been chasing her stop, looking up at her. She lifted her skirt to give them an eyeful. "And that's all you're going to get, assholes!" she shouted down to them.

But one of them was talking into a radio. _Damn_, she thought.

She reached the top and started across the roof towards the cable, taking out her phone. It had been damaged when she had gone over, the light was sparking and stuttering. She punched the Favourites button. "Jarvis!" she said.

And then the phone died, falling to pieces in her hand.

There was a tremendous noise and a bright light. It was one of the police choppers, almost on top of her, and the other one was coming up from behind. A cop leaned out the door, aiming a machine gun.

She dived and rolled behind a vent as a volley of bullets punched into the roof around her. She took the Glock from its holster, aimed and fired. There was the satisfying sound of glass shattering as the light blinked out. But the other chopper was not far away.

She reached the cable and grabbed onto the slider, just a piece of plastic tubing. She launched herself off the roof and then was speeding through the air.

It took a few moments for the cops in the choppers to realise where she had gone, but they worked it out pretty quick. The searchlight began darting about, looking for her.

It found her and locked on. Gunners in both the choppers fired.

A bullet cut into her shoulder but somehow she clung onto the slider. The ground was ten metres down but the choppers were coming around again. Six metres. Four.

She let go, aiming at a patch of dirt. She hit and rolled. The choppers swept overhead, heading towards the end of the cable. When they couldn't find her, they would double back. And there was still guys – a mixed bag of crims and bent cops, presumably – in cars and on foot searching for her. And she was bleeding now, leaving a red trail.

She pushed the pain away, telling herself to stay calm and think.

There was an open area not far away, where a building had been torn down, except for a couple of walls. There was a concrete drain at the back of the site. It might lead somewhere. But getting to it would mean crossing a wide, well-lit space without cover. Well, no other choices. She started for it.

She was nearly there when three guys on foot saw her. She could hear them shouting into their radio. There was the sound of more cars coming, as well as the damn choppers. She started to run across the site.

There was a burst of machine-gun fire, and a hammer blow on her thigh. She went down.

She managed to get up but she couldn't do much more than hobble. She made it to a half-destroyed concrete wall and sagged to the ground. She tried to draw her Glock, but with her right shoulder injured and her left wrist hurt she could hardly lift it, let alone shoot.

There was a line of men, including a dozen cops, coming towards her.

A police car, and then a silver limo, pulled up. Rorke got out of the police car and a heavy-set guy in an expensive suit got out of the limo. Skank had never seen this guy before but she knew who he must be. Ivan Ivanovich. Top of the East Coast food chain.

Ivanovich walked over to her. "So you're the twist that has caused so much trouble," he said. "You're a tough one, I'll say that for you. I don't usually get involved with the grunt work but for you I've made an exception. Wanted to see you go down."

"Then kiss me," said Skank, through gritted teeth. "And I'll bite your tongue off."

"Huh," said Ivanovich. "Yes, I think you would."

He walked back to the goons. "Do it," he said to them.

They lifted their guns.

_Keep your eyes open,_ Skank told herself. _Show these pricks how a Jersey girl can die. _

Suddenly, there was a blue blur between her and the guns. There was a volley of fire – and the sound of bullets bouncing off metal.

Captain America, crouching in front of her with his shield raised, turned to her. "Evening, ma'am," he said.

"Fuck," muttered Skank.

The guns fell silent, out of ammunition. Captain America flung the shield. It took down the first rank of men, and then came spinning back. He caught it. He looked back at Skank and winked.

"Okay, I will admit that that is cool," said Skank, grimacing in pain.

There was a noise like thunder as Iron Man landed. He fired a burst of repulsor beams, knocking down the men still standing. Only Rorke and Invanovich were still on their feet.

Rorke had a shotgun. He raised it towards Captain America and Skank.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," said Black Widow, walking out of the shadows with her two pistols pointing at him. "No, on second thought, go ahead."

Rorke put down the gun. Then he smiled. He spoke into the radio on his shoulder: "Bring up the AC."

"You're going to hit us with an air-conditioner?" said Iron Man.

"I'm a senior cop," said Rorke. "All I have to do is arrest you."

An armoured car with a police insignia rolled in and stopped. It had a cannon, which swung towards them.

"Huh," said Iron Man. "How about that."

"He's probably going to like it," said Black Widow.

The Hulk came leaping out of the sky, coming down with a huge thump in front of the armoured car. The car started up and drove towards him. The Hulk put his hands on the front of the vehicle and it stopped dead. The driver increased the power. The wheels spun and black smoke started to come from the engine.

The Hulk gave a smile. He lifted the vehicle off the ground.

"Uh, maybe no need to do the Hulk Smash thing," said Captain America to him.

Hulk, with a derisive snort, put the armoured car down. He took hold of the cannon and twisted it back, into a U. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction.

"Maybe you should try and cuff him," said Black Widow to Rorke. "You know, read him his Miranda rights."

"I doubt that you're going to be a senior cop much longer," said Iron Man. "You know one of the good things about this suit? It records things. Like you playing ball with Mr Crime Boss here. The tape will be great evidence for the DA, or the Commissioner, or the Mayor. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up before a grand jury. You and your employer."

"Or maybe we'll just skip all that and go straight to the Internet," said Black Widow.

Skank struggled to her feet. "You lose, assholes," she said.

Ivanovich and Rorke stared at each other. Their lives were over.

Skank, still losing blood, began to sway.

Captain America offered her his arm.

"I can manage," she said.

"You know," said Black Widow to her, "it's alright to accept some help. Comes with the superhero gig."

"And we owe you, remember," said Captain America.

Skank looked at the Avengers. Then she accepted the offer – gratefully. Cap lifted her into his arms.

There was the sound of sirens. "Ah, that will be the good guys, an hour late and a dollar short," said Iron Man. "Well, they can handle the paperwork, and we'll speak to them tomorrow." The Avengers, with Skank still being carried by Cap, began to walk away.

"You should stay at the mansion tonight so we can patch you up," said Black Widow.

"No, I – well, okay," said Skank. "Just for the night. So my call to Jarvis got through?"

"Just a beep and a buzz, apparently, but he started monitoring the radio chatter and before we knew it he had us suited up and in the jet," said Natasha.

"You know, I think Jarvis might have a bit of a thing for you," said Tony. "I'm just putting it out there."

Natasha's phone beeped. She took it from her pocket, looked at it, and then handed it to Beth. "Guess who?" she said.

Beth took it. "Hi, sweetie," she said.

* * *

It was a few days later, at the mansion. Beth's wounds had healed enough for her to walk unaided, and she was taking a stroll in the grounds with Natasha and Steve.

"Interesting article in the newspaper today," Steve was saying, "About Rorke and Ivanovich and a dozen others being indicted."

"Huh," said Beth.

"You know," said Natasha, "if you think Newark is going to be alright with some of the bad guys behind bars, you're welcome to sign up with us."

"More than welcome," said Steve.

Beth considered. "Thanks, but no thanks," she said eventually. "I'm not really Avengers material. I'll stay on the street, I think."

"Yeah, we thought you'd say that," said Natasha. "But you deserve a vacation, at least. You and Jarvis. So take this." She handed Beth a new, upgraded monitor.

"And this," said Steve. He handed her a set of car keys. "It's for Tony's Maserati. His new one."

"Uh, does he know?" said Beth.

"It wouldn't be fun if he knew," said Natasha.

Beth opened the monitor, and Jarvis' face appeared.

"Where would you like to go?" she said to him.

"Anywhere," he said. "I do not care, as long as it is with you."

"Then Jersey," she said, "can get along without me for a while."

END


End file.
